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I’ve heard stories about it happening this way – being set free in an instant.

I suppose I’ve even encountered small doses of it here and there.

Take, for example, the decades long people-pleasing I revered with this one particular individual…I wanted her acceptance. Her words, steeped with disapproval, shoveled shame so thick on my soul that it nearly crushed me at times.

Then, one day…as I continued to grow and develop over the years…learning what MY values are and what it means to live those out…she had said some very hurtful things through written message and I wanted to have a candid conversation to address them (which I had never done before, confront her on her words).

Briiiiing, briiiing…I spoke, I shared my truth, then she spoke, but it was as if she did not hear a word I had said. I tried again. She bypassed and circumvented again. Change of topic. No responsibility for things said.

It was in that moment that I realized: this is a pattern. This relationship has very little meaningful fruit. This relationship is more of a “should” in many ways. It’s not that I want or need the relationship to end completely, but I will no longer be bound mentally to jumping through her hoops.

I don’t owe her anything.

Freedom.

In an instant.

(Or was it decades in the making?)

So, yes, there have been occasional times like that. Typically though? I seem to play the long-game when it comes to finding freedom.

I wrestle. (A shark and an alligator, in the mud, at the same time, it often feels.)

I doubt.

I take one step forward, then two steps back.

I sabotage.

I delay.

I allow fear to make predictions about the future.

Stuck.

Perhaps you can relate?

When it comes to the journey to motherhood…

AY-YI-YI-YO-YO!

It could rival Cedar Point as being America’s largest, longest, most upside-down flips and ninety-degree turns, biggest drop roller coaster.

Buck-le up, buttercup.

I had been considering going back to therapy to talk about my fears in becoming a parent – including the avoidance of even thinking about it. You can read more about that here. It was in this exact season that I heard from God, plain and clear. He graciously showed me that I was allowing my fears to rule the roost versus trusting Him. I was playing God by attempting to control and micromanage. He asked me to trust Him and let go. You can read more about that here.

I let go.

I did.

It wasn’t easy.

It was scary.

I did it afraid.

Trusting.

Then, I found myself pregnant at the absolute first chance.

I freaked.

I flipped.

But I also thought, “Ok, God. I guess it’s our time. You knew the perfect timing for us. This is not by accident.”

Those thoughts only went so far, only lasted so long.

The next many weeks would be filled with an ebb and flow of trying not to think about it and pure terror. Constant nausea, wacky food aversions, and dizziness took much of my attention. The other side of the coin was shame for not feeling pure excitement for this “miracle” everyone around me was so excited about.

Thankfully, though shame tried to stake ground in my heart, I knew I didn’t have to accept it. Every time I cried out to God, especially on those mornings where I told Him He picked the wrong girl for the job…

Never did I feel anything but held in return.

Truthfully, I was proud of myself for allowing the feelings to surface. My modus operandi when it comes to emotions has, more times than not, included shoving them down, ignoring altogether, or eating my way through them (or not eating at all as a means of control). This journey? These cries out to God? The sobbing on the stairs, on the foam roller, and lamenting the loss of the way I used to feel (more in control than this)?

I was actually being real with myself.

Real with God.

Not using food to escape.

Since I wasn’t shaming me, and God wasn’t shaming me, I don’t know if I was inwardly looking for someone else to do so or what, but anytime I had those hard, hard days of doubting, I would tell Bryan. That’s not uncommon; I tell him everything. In this case though, it almost felt like I was tattling on myself with expectation of getting bruised in return. One time, I even said,

“I’m sorry I’m the wife you have going through this with you. I’m sorry I’m not just excited with you.”

I was starting to feel bad that my fears weren’t just going away. His reply? “Tam, you have nothing to apologize for. Your feelings are your feelings, but I see the truth through it all. Once that baby is placed on your chest, I have no doubt in my mind you will fall deeply in love. No doubt. And whatever hiccups and challenges come, we will face them, just like we always have. We aren’t doing this alone either.”

No shame.

No blame.

Only love.

Last week Friday, the morning included one of these break-down sob sessions. Then came Sunday…

The day started like any other day; I was digging into God’s Word. Following the study outline provided by a class I was currently takiing, that meant opening to Judges, Chapter 6.

Gideon.

I’ve read it before. More than once. But this day? During this exact season of life? The Holy Spirit met me here, right where He knew I needed leading, love, and assurance.

The area where Gideon lived had been under attack. At the start of the scene, Gideon was hiding in a wine press threshing wheat.

HIDING.

God came to Him and called out, “O mighty man of valor, go and lead your people to victory.”

Mighty man of valor?

What lens are you looking through?

Gideon responded by telling the Lord all of the reasons he was NOT the man for the job.

God’s reply?

“I will be with you.”

Shot to the heart – I am Gideon in this story. I am hiding. I am the one telling God, “I am not the girl for the job.”

He is the one saying in response, “I will be with you.”

Gideon did NOT merely go, immediately, as we see so many others do in the gospels when Jesus calls them to follow Him. Nope. Gideon wanted assurance. He asked God to prove it was really Him, and really His will by making a few things happen in the physical where Gideon could see.

He wanted to know beyond the shadow of a doubt.

God met Him there. He willingly showed Gideon it was He, in the ways Gideon needed to see.

As if that weren’t enough for this story to gut me (in the best of ways)…Gideon calls the troops together…there were so many men ready and willing to fight, God said, “Send some of those people home. There are too many. This goes on a few times until what could have been an army of 22,000 is whittled down to 300.

Why? Why would God do that? Did He want them all to die? Quite the contrary. He intended for them to live, but He didn’t want any of them to think they did it on their own. He wanted them to know they couldn’t have done it without His help, His protection, and His provision.

And they won!

Not by their own might, but by trusting God.

His ways are so not like our ways.

I can scarcely see an army sending troops home to intentionally shrink themselves smaller than their opponent.

Yet God…

For me, this part of the story is where God said to my heart,

“I don’t need you to be a “perfect” mom. I need you to trust in Me. Together, we will parent your kiddo. Apart from me, it won’t work well. In Me, with Me, through Me…that’s the way it will be. A daily walk. Together.”

There it was…FREEDOM…in an instant.

The weight was lifted.

Dark clouds parted.

I have literally been dancing in the sun since that day; swirling and twirling and swishing my party dress left and right.

He is with me.

He will never leave me.

I don’t have to be – won’t ever be – perfect on my own, but that’s not the goal.

He did pick me.

Hiding me.

I am the girl for the job.

As of today, I am eighteen weeks pregnant and I am no longer hanging out in terror.

I’ve traded in terror for trust and it fits me oh-so-much better.

💚 Tammy

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It was fun to hear from many of you in regards to Part 1. I will never stop believing: REAL RESONATES. If you missed Part 1, start there and then come back to this post. It will make more sense that way.

Ok, God. Thank you for your kindness and clarity by sharing that news with us both on the same exact day. There’s no second guessing that. But what is this action to be? What change are you wanting us to make? We couldn’t help but laugh because neither of us knew for sure. “Did He tell you what?” “No.” “Did He tell you what?” “No.” We didn’t have details, but we did discern that it was between three things; open another studio location, start trying to get pregnant/adopt/bring a child into the home in some capacity, or look into going into ministry/mission work more full-time. After prayer and time with the Lord, we both had peace in our hearts to open a 2nd studio location. Note: “peace” did not mean the absence of “what the heck are we doing?! Agh!”

• 

• 

Kids were off the table yet again. Wait some more. Waiting in the sense that we prevented pregnancy to the best of our ability, aside from abstinence. I often felt like abstaining is what would be best because it would be the only guarantee. Add to that, as my faith was growing, I became more and more aware of God’s design for sex and didn’t want to live out of line with that.

As our age continued to climb in number, I did begin to feel more frantic too. A disheveled, I-just-need-to-know-if-we-are-supposed-to-have-kids-or-not desire led me to pick out a most beautiful journal from my collection. Brand-new and dedicated to figuring out if we would be having kids or not. Here we go…

I never wrote in it.

Y’all, I love to write. I love to journal. I was writing in other journals, just not that one. Was it fear? Maybe. Procrastination? Perhaps. Flat out avoidance? I’m fairly certain it was a combination of all three. Alas, it sat empty.

Then came the acne. Again. Fiercer than ever before. After countless hours at the dermatologist(s) and dollars(ssss) spent on lotions, potions, and creams, there it still was. Pop, conceal, ouch. I wanted to not let it bother me. I am more than skin deep, I am more than skin deep. And, yes, while that is true, I was totally over-spiritualizing it. Making it a moral issue. (That’s what we 1’s on the Enneagram do.) My husband was the voice of reason who said, “This is painful. If you broke a bone you wouldn’t not get a cast. Go get looked at. Take action.”

Off I went…to the gynecologist to get checked for polycystic ovary syndrome. It was unlikely I had PCOS, with the acne being the only symptom I had, but it was time to check everything off the list. I went in for an ultrasound, of which I completely pictured gel on my exterior and a wand rubbing over my skin. Not so much. This was a “transvaginal ultrasound.” Lucky me. That day though? The day I lay naked under a thin fabric, freezing, yet sweating in all the inopportune places? The tech had me look at the screen as she showed me my healthy ovaries. She was showing me no PCOS – I saw a whole lot more than that.

Healthy ovaries. I have healthy ovaries. I didn’t know that before, but now I know. Now I know so what do I do with that information? It scared me. Hot tears fell to my cheeks when I got in the car. It brought me both guilt and sadness. Guilt that I was likely a good specimen to bring a life into this world, but I’m choosing not to. And sadness for all the women who are desperately wanting children and their bodies (or their spouses) are not cooperating. I know it takes a lot more than healthy ovaries to conceive and carry a pregnancy to term, but this is how I felt.

Enter the new acne doctor and a plan to try the only thing I hadn’t tried yet:

The anti-babymaker.

This drug was the mother of all acne medicines – with just one rule: YOU CANNOT GET PREGNANT WHILE ON THIS DRUG. You have to sign a pledge, prove you’re on 2+ forms of birth control every month, give a urine sample every month to check for pregnancy, and take a quiz to acknowledge you know the damaging effects of this drug on a fetus – you guessed it – every month. Add to that, it’s crazy expensive, makes your bones ache, nose bleed, and lips chap right off your face. Lastly, once your cycle of the drug is complete, you are advised to wait an additional 6-8 months before conceiving. I’m 38. Time is ticking. And yet…

And yet I serve a God who is a God of miracles. He takes a barren womb and brings forth life. Age is not a barrier for Him. I firmly believed that, and yet…I have ears. I have eyes. And when I wasn’t guarding them, I heard about the increase in chances for a child with disabilities for women over thirty-five. Great. That has been a longtime fear of mine, that I would have a child with special needs and I would be a horrible mother to meet those needs. Now, if we have a child with special needs, it would be all my fault for waiting so long to have a child. I don’t think I could live with myself. (Yes, I see how I am totally leaving God out of the equation when I look at things from this perspective.) What to do, what to do…

Back to spiritual mentor I went. It was there in that sacred space that she led me through a prayer where we invited God in to show me how He’d been a part of this journey all along. He wasn’t surprised by it. It was there I saw that, while we were using protection, there are many who get pregnant while “trying not to.” There were nights where things broke, slipped, or were forgotten about completely (so he said anyway). Yet still, nothing. He wasn’t mad at me, wondering when I would get my act together. He was gentle, He was kind, and I felt peace to say yes to the acne meds and no to getting pregnant for another year and a half or so.

Once the decision was made, it was a relief. To have the baby-making question completely off the table for a least eighteen months brought peace. Though I still felt like a schmuck among my peers sometimes, and I most definitely answered the question as to whether I have kids or not with:

I don’t have children yet.

Always the “yet.” It was the yet that I believed redeemed my answer, but it was also the yet that cut into my soul each and every time. It was my own way of telling myself, “not good enough yet.” Clearly I had work to do in becoming confident that we didn’t have children. But the “yet” was more than trying to save face. The “yet” also represented the unresolved parts of my heart that wondered if I really was never going to be a mom.

Am I going to keep putting it off? Until when? God, help me. I need you to let me know if you want us to be parents. Do I have what it takes to be a good mom?

Once the acne meds had worked their wonders and I was safely in the clear, I would soon be turning 40. Forty! Ok, God. This is the year isn’t it? I think so. But I could not let go. I didn’t want to have unprotected sex. I could not picture enjoying being a mom. I saw my biggest fear playing out time and time again:

I will make my child feel unseen and unloved all the time.

Add to that, Bryan will be Mr. Fun and I will be the fun-sucker. I’ll have to be the responsible one and I’ll be miserable and make everyone else miserable in my wake. What a miserable life to live. Sob. Bawl. Wait.

Then came the months of praying that God would impregnate me without our trying. “Lord, if you want us to have a baby, you could get me pregnant without our even having sex. If that’s your will Lord, do it.” Yes, friends. I went there. Hey, at least I’m being honest.

Foster care. Lord, you know foster care has been on my heart for years. I would really like to begin with foster care. That sounds like a great plan, don’t you think? (Looks up foster care agencies in Indiana, begins doing research…you cannot live in two places, three hours apart, and be a foster parent. It doesn’t work like that. It will not work for us – not in this season of living and splitting our time among the two cities we have our fitness studios in, homes, and lives in.) We may not always live in two towns, but currently we do, so for now…foster care is off the table. God???

Enter 2020. Remodeling a home. Quarantine. Covid-19. Business shutdown. Lots of time at home. Lots of time with Bryan. Lots and lots and lots of time with the Lord (and painting furniture).

• 

• 

It was in this season that I felt led to start the book I’m writing now – Our Story – essentially. The good, the bad, the gnarly, icky ugly. It was also in this season that I heard the nudge to take a break from all reading, aside from the Bible. Add to that, taking a break from all listening, aside from the occasional fiction audiobook while working on said house projects.

It was in this season of extra margin, extra quiet, extra space, that in January of 2021 I heard something soft and clear. I wasn’t praying a specific prayer at the time, nor was I journaling in a sacred journal space. I did have a friend who had been asking me about my fears with motherhood and I took a risk and told her – the truth. And that wasn’t the end of it. She asked deeper. She prayed. It was hard. I was vulnerable and I sat with the uncomfortable. And that voice I heard soft and clear one seemingly random day in January?

Are you ready to trust me with this area of your life? You have handed me your marriage, your anxiety, your eating disorders…you’ve allowed me to carry your fear of failure in other realms of life, in business, leading a team – all of it you put in my hands. But kids? You act like God. It’s as if you believe you know better than I do.

It was in that moment that I knew – through the crazy amount of fear and doubt still flowing through me – I was called to live out the faith I profess on the daily – in obedience to TRUSTING HIM – whatever that may bring.

Lord, I hear you. You are right. I have been playing God; believing I know best. Truth is, I am scared petrified. I don’t know if I will be a good mom, nor if I will enjoy being a mom. What if I can’t handle it and end up not wanting to get out of bed in the mornings? What if parenting tears Bryan and I apart? What if…ok – inhale – I’m doing it again. WHAT IF I SIMPLY TRUSTED YOU?! (As non-simple as that feels in the moment.) What if I took you for your word? What if I knew I would never be alone and you’d be with me? What if, honestly, none of that feels like enough in this moment. I want ASSURANCE. No; more than that. I want INSURANCE that life will be good better, if we become parents.

Honestly, I have trusted you in many areas of life, time and time again. But the paths you bring me to aren’t often a “walk in the park.” There are “lessons” and “learning,” “pruning” and “growth.” What if I’m plum tired of learning so much?

I won’t force you to do anything. Real love doesn’t force. But obedience does trust, even when it doesn’t make sense and you don’t have all the answers to your questions. You get to decide, daughter, but my ask of you is that you put me in my rightly-ordered place, and trust.

This wasn’t a head-level conversation. It went straight to the heart. Ok…obedience in this case means letting go. A MAJOR letting go. Taking away the stops. Trusting God and His plan for us.

I shared with Bryan as soon as we were together next. “Let’s get started!” he replied. I reminded him that this was about more than a few moments of pleasure. “I know, Tam. It’s time. Let’s trust God and see what happens.”

Oh my goodness, oh my goodness.

Heartbreakingly, we know many couples who have not been able to conceive. I wondered if we might be one of those couples, especially since adoption and fostering are also on our radar. We know couples where it takes years of trying before conception occurs. Bryan thought it would likely take at least a year or so of “practice.” Welp friends, as we were packing to head to Aruba for B’s birthday January 31st-February 6, I decided to check my period tracker app to see if I needed to pack the monthly goods. Nope. In the clear for my period. I happened to notice another tab in the app that I have never checked before: OVULATION. I clicked and what to my wondering eyes should appear:

Your fertile window is January 31st – February 5th!

The exclamation point marks the dizziness that immediately set in. Fertile every day of our trip but the last?! Are you serious?! God??? We just went from zero to 100 in no time flat. I took my light-headed self to find Bryan and tell him the news (and maybe consider asking him to pack some protection). I was met with, “Hun, this is great news. Let’s just have fun. Take the pressure off. You don’t have to be scared. This gets to be joyful.”

He knows as well as I do that “vacation Tammy” is up for more romp-time than regularly working, fuller-schedule Tammy.

Well, friends. We did it. Quite literally. Knowing I was fertile, knowing a baby could potentially be made and we would become parents. For me it was complete obedience to the Lord. For Bryan, he was ready to say yes to this new possible venture.

• 

• 

• 

We landed back on Hoosier soil February 6th. The next few weeks I noticed little things here and there that were off. February 23rd is when I figured out something was for sure up, and we began investigating. If you missed the story on how we found out we were pregnant, you can read that here.

Yep. The 1st possible window of fertility where we knowingly let things fly and trusted where they may land – landed us pregnant.

My reaction was one of complete shock. Deafening shock gave way to “maybe that was the most irresponsible thing we have ever done,” which gave way to trying not to think about it. Then came the sobbing outbursts. I have still sobbed on many occasions (as in, yesterday).

What used to be guilt for not having kids moved to guilt for being pregnant when so many others wanted it so badly. I won’t pretend to understand how or why certain things happen while others don’t, but I know I’m being called to trust. Daily. An hour-to-hour, minute-to-minute reliance on the Holy Spirit within, trusting that His guidance will always be enough.

Let’s just say it’s a work in progress.

I am trusting, but I am also hoping I start to feel excitement about things before long. Not that finding a cutie onesie to make a pregnancy announcement, choosing a name, and my husband’s affectionate kissies on my expanding belly aren’t precious. They are.

I know it doesn’t help that I’ve been feeling like crud for sixteen weeks straight either.

This story is to be continued…(obviously)

Oh, I forgot to say…when we first found out we were pregnant, I did feel it in my heart that God was leaving no room for confusion. There was our answer. And yet, how easily we can muddy the waters, huh?

Like God does for each and every one of us, today, tomorrow, and the day after that, I am choosing to receive His grace and extend it to myself and others too.

I hope you’ll do the same.

Tammy

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When someone has been with their hubby since diapers (slight exaggeration), and surprises the world with a pregnancy announcement at forty-one years of age (Ok, even if they weren’t surprised, we sure the heck were!), you know there’s a story there.

I believe stories are sacred, and I’m about to get real candid and share mine with you. This will be divvied up into Part 1 and Part 2 because…this story is decades long. Thank you for your lens of compassion as you catch a glimpse into a narrative that may be nothing like your own…

Growing up in a blue collar neighborhood of small town Indiana where most kids lived with mom and dad, myself included, that’s what I knew those elementary years. Whether the home lives were dysfunctional or not, I’ll let you surmise. I can assure you I did not sit around dreaming about my wedding day nor becoming a mother, but as high school approached, boys became a more pressing issue and the idea of finding “the one” was often on my mind. This was more about feeling accepted for me than it was anything else. The pressure to have sex was also on. Ugh. I knew I didn’t want have sex with multiple people so, the way I saw it, if I found “the one” now, we could “be together” then and every year to come. Enter Bryan Weisweaver. Problem solved.

We began dating at the ripe age of fifteen. I was smitten. If asked of my loosely laid plans for life while I was in high school, I would have said:

I want to get married and have three kids by the time I turn twenty-eight.

I’m not sure where any of those numbers came from, but I remember having that idea in my head. After multiple years together, it became apparent that we were, in fact, going to spend our entire lives together. Bryan proposed to me the summer after senior year, right before we went away to college.

I quickly became “the freshman who’s engaged” on campus, which won me major cool factor among the girls. Bryan? He quickly became “the dumbest freshman ever.” “Dude, why would you come to college engaged?! You are SO going to miss out.” I definitely romanticized being with my high school sweetheart. It was easy to do. “We’re getting married on our 8 year anniversary. Yep, we’ve been together since freshman year of high school(!) and we’ve never broken up.” I wore it like a badge of honor. Identity wound tightly round.

Both of us assumed we would have kids, in time. It’s what you do. Get married. Have kids. The real choices involve your career, where you want to live, and what to have for dinner.

We dove into our careers. Me, the kindergarten teacher. He, the financial advisor. There’s something about spending the day with twenty-five five year olds (when you don’t know at the time that you’re really an introvert), that leaves you wanting to be alone at night. Aka – don’t touch me. In fact, don’t talk to me for at least an hour. Shhh…I couldn’t imagine having kids in that season. And yet, I did not want to leave the classroom either. My signature phrase went like this:

I cannot be the kind of teacher I want to be and the kind of mom I want to be at the same time.

• 

And then the train wreck. Head on collision. Poor decision after poor decision. Pain. Trauma. Inches away from divorce. Walls crumbing down, down, down. You can read more about that story, if you’re interested, in the book I’m writing now. Stay tuned. It’s a doozy. It was also in this season that Bryan, grasping for straws to save our marriage, suggested we have a baby. I’m pretty sure I laughed out loud with that one. There was no way that was happening. Not a chance. In fact, it was in this season that I wrote many vows in my heart about me and motherhood, Bryan and fatherhood. They went a little something like this:

I don’t know that I can ever have kids with this man.

Will he ever be trustworthy again?

What if I say yes to having kids and then he leaves me?

I don’t want to be a single parent.

As we worked through our problems, aka came to Jesus, and the process of healing began, things got worse before they got better. It took years and years of therapy and learning the truth of what God says about us and forgiveness and reconciliation before an inkling of “kid talk” was back on the table. This intense time of re-building came during what would be considered prime family-starting time for most. I can’t tell you how many times I heard, “Are you going to have kids?” & “You’d be such a great mom.” during those dreadfully painful years. It hurt every time. A reminder that we never know what battle someone may be facing.

Once it became clear that our boat had survived the storms and we were now sailing, even when the waters were rocky, we had God, a support system, and new ways of responding to tumultuous times. We still had things to work on, that’s for sure, but we were being healed and our relationship was no longer in question.

Then came the guilt. Oh, how debilitating the guilt. I didn’t have guilt over not having kids prior to this. Those first two years out of college flew by with teaching, followed by years living in Crudsville, but now…now that we are two humans in a loving relationship…

She has to stay inside on this beautiful, sunny day for her child’s nap time while I get to do whatever I want. Selfish, selfish Tammy.

She’s spending money on her child’s __________ , and I get to __________. Selfish, selfish Tammy.

I don’t even know that I want to teach young children anymore. I really want to do something in the health and wellness field, start a blog, and write. Selfish, selfish Tammy.

This was a terribly confusing time in life and I carried that guilt around like a millstone on my neck. I sought out spiritual guidance. Prayed about it – A LOT. Journaled about it. Asked God to help me KNOW if he wanted us to be parents.

Bryan went back and forth on the issue.

I went back and forth too.

In all of those times of back, back, forth, and forth, we were never on the same page at the same time.

So we waited.

Then, I quit my kindergarten teacher position while at the same time thinking this may be God’s way of leading me to the land of motherhood.

Maybe God has me leaving teaching so then I’ll have the capacity to become a mom.

Little did I know that a baby of another sort was about to be birthed. Almost immediately, B Present Studio was born. Lots of labor pains, little sleep, and all of my needs pushed to the side. This baby just happened to come with a lot more sweat.

I had joy. I had purpose. The learning curve was huge, and I got it wrong more than I got it right. But I did the best I knew how each day. Though it still felt funky to not be a mom when most everyone around me was one, even those younger than I, I trusted that it just wasn’t our time yet and prayed that I would know when/if it ever was. Did I feel less than sometimes? Yes. Left out? Occasionally. Did I go back to my spiritual mentor during these years to talk about this mothering stuff? Yes, indeed. She helped me see that I was “mothering” in many ways. In some of those really hard seasons of wondering if I was missing out/not hearing from God/being the ultimate selfish; there were women who gave me a Mother’s Day card with a most grateful message inside saying that I was the closest thing to a mom they’ve ever had. Cue the waterworks.

Lord, thank you.

I knew it wasn’t the “same,” but I also viewed our path to parenthood likely looking different than the norm. My heart beats fast for foster care. I am intensely interested in adoption too. Dreams of being a mentoring “momma” figure to girls rescued from human trafficking/those formerly in the sex industry are a very real thing in my heart.

Four years after the start of B Present Studio, we found ourselves at a crossroads. Bryan and I both got the nudge on the same day:

It’s time for change. Time to take action.

What is that change you ask? I was asking too! Join me for Part 2 to find out. Coming soon!

NOTE: Though our journeys to motherhood/non-motherhood may or may not share commonalities, I believe in the power of story. I believe we hear and read things that make us think of others in our lives too. If you know someone who has struggled with identifying as a mom or not identifying as a mom, please know you are welcome to share this. Just be sure to catch the next installment. See if it surprises you as much as it did me.

PS – Since it’s Mother’s Day the day I’m posting this, I wanted to wish a Happy Mother’s Day to all the mommas out there. To those mothering in “unconventional” ways. To those waiting to become a mom. To those who are remembering mother’s already gone from this earth, those mourning the loss of babies and children lost…to those with strained/no relationship with their mommas. You matter. You are seen. You are loved.

Tammy

Story time: There are so many stories leading up to this day, but for today – THE DAY WE FOUND OUT WE WERE PREGNANT – here goes…

The faces of two surprised humans.

The clues that led me to asking B to pick up a pregnancy test:

•It was bedtime, and as I climbed into bed & my head hit the pillow: nausea. What? Why am I all of a sudden nauseous? And the next night. And the next night. Hmmm…
•Then came the desire to eat something in the morning, before I workout, though I wasn’t really hungry and nothing sounded good, and I wasn’t typcially eating until 11:30/noon. Interesting…
•Next came the fatigue. (Insert yawn.) Sooooo very tired. I even chose to get more rest one day instead of “pushing through,” as I’d always done in the past. I really felt like my body needed the rest. But even with that extra rest? Still tired!
•My workouts started feeling near impossible for me. I needed to take a million breaks – from the very beginning. It was like my muscles had some resistance to being challenged all of a sudden. This made me wonder if my body was being attacked from within…
•And then, the day I knew…the day it all added up…I DIDN’T FEEL LIKE WORKING OUT AT ALL!! Not a walk, not a push-up, and def not teaching that 9am class I was slated to teach. Ugh!

That may not seem like a big deal, but I can assure you it was!! I have always loved moving my body. Love it!! To not want to move at all – I knew something was up. But what?!

Needless to say, this freaked me out. I prayed for God to help me teach that class well, and also asked if something was wrong with me. Do I have a rare disease taking over? Lord, show me any steps I need to take next. If you don’t want me teaching anymore…

It was then I was reminded that symptoms of a period came – and went – but no period. I took out my phone app tracker and…sure enough – I WAS LATE!

That’s when I made the call…to my husband.

Me: Would you be able to pick up a pregnancy test today?

Him: Sure. Why?

Me: Well…the nausea, weird eating, extreme fatigue, and now – I don’t want to workout! Oh, and my period is late. I have to go now, I have to teach!

I taught that hour long cardio-intensive class. Don’t ask me how, but I did. Just as I would for the subsequent weeks to follow. Feeling like junk, taking all the breaks, sure that everybody must be wondering why I lost I stamina seemingly overnight.

Much to my surprise, after finishing that class, Bryan was in the studio lobby, ready and raring to go back to the house – test in hand. Oh, boy. Oh, boy. I thought he’d go after his workout. Thought I’d have a few more hours of not knowing. Nope. Boy was ready!

Home we went where he cutely told me, “I’ll read the directions.”

Next came the waiting. Then going back into the bathroom to see the test results, only to discover there was NO RESPONSE at all! Not positive, not negative, but what we’d soon discover the directions call an “invalid” test.

B: How Can they sell an invalid test?!

Me: You got a two-pack, right? Whether it was positive or negative, we’d need to take another test.

B: No. I didn’t think of that. I’ve never done this before!

We both fell into laughing at that point! I told him he could pick up another one after his workout, to which he replied, “No way! I’m going to get more now!”

He was back in no time. The 2nd test was the same style as the first one, only the ends on it were pink, instead of blue. ANOTHER INVALID TEST!! No way!! This is the point in the story where I said, “Let me see those directions.” Turns out, there was another way of taking the test. “Go grab a disposable cup, honey, we’re going to try a different method.”

Well, the different method, and a different type of test altogether landed us with our first “Yes+.” Oh, my. Oh, my. Oh, my…

Yes, the test was positive, but that was only one test. I still wanted to take another to confirm. Back to the store he went! (Insert all the giggles, and maybe a few eye rolls on his end.) Another digital test. The last disposable cup in the house. Another “Yes+.”

The amount of fear that had been preventing us (me) from getting to this point was MASSIVE. And now to be looking at two positive pregnancy tests? I almost passed out. For real though. I went dizzy. Felt like I was in a dazed stupor. How can I be a mom? I won’t be a good one. This was supposed to be a huge act of trust in God and the biggest leap of faith of my life thus far – and yet – what if I was just being the most irresponsible I’ve ever been?! And I we’ll have to change this with the house and that with the house and, and, and…

Houston, we have panic at the disco!!

The questions..the doubts…sloooooow down…inhaaaaaale…exhaaaaaale…God led you to this. He will walk you through this. One day at a time. One. Day. At. A. Time. One. Step. One. S. T. E. P.

Yes, Jesus. I trust you. We trust you. I’m freaked out. I don’t know how this will work out. But I trust you. Now to get prenatals and an OB!

👶🏻💗👶🏼💙

Tammy (& Bryan)

PS.I have since found both prenatals and a great doctor. I’m guessing I’ll be led to share more on this pregnancy journey, over time. In the meantime, if you’ve got stories to share, leave them in the comments. I’d love to hear them!

PPS. Later on, the 2nd test we took turned to positive as well. In fact, all of the pink tests were positive and the blue test still read as invalid. I think we’re having a girl. Bryan thinks we’re having a girl. Time will tell on that one.

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Making memories and asking the deep/hard questions…our stove/oven finally made its way out of the middle of the kitchen and into its rightful (functional) place. 1st meal? B-man was on it with spaghetti squash, mixed with loads of veggies, Rao’s marinara, and brats (!). We’ve never done that combo but since the brats were ready to go, in they went. Yum! 🍝

When thinking of the first thing I would make, I dreamt of homemade carmel corn. 😍 Imagine my delight to learn that one of my nephews favorite food groups is??? Carmel corn! Yippee! Sugar lovers unite! 🍿

Then the boys wanted ice cream (this feels a bit overboard, no?) so I went along for the ride.🍦(My husband would claim I “tasted” 1/2 of his, but that’s just not the truth.) That game of Sorry though!?! If you know sorry, you know having every single player in the safety zone with their 4th player is nothing short of a nail-biter. I am requesting a re-match today. 😉 (Hey, I’m not going down without a fight!)

All of that to say this…

We’ve been told over the years that having kids would help us to slow down. (Not likely a reason one decides to have kids.) We feel the shift when our nephew is here. And when it’s for a stint, when someone is visiting, I (often reluctantly) make the space for it. Not because I don’t love the guest with my whole heart, rather, this deep-seated way of believing that I MUST DO takes over. There is a fear (READ: LIE?) that if I can’t count the hours I have worked each day, we won’t be able to put food on the table tomorrow. Damn, how it pains me to write those words. But these thoughts? These beliefs? They’ve been with me for as long as I can remember and I’ve learned that writing brings healing, so here we are…

I am challenged to imagine how life would work with actual kids. Kids who are always there, always having needs, always experiencing emotions and challenges of their own. This is an area I have invited God into time and time again, often to walk away as not to hear His reply. 😫 Not ready? Unwilling? Disobedient? Relying on His perfect timing?

This season though? I am challenging myself to show up AND STAY for ALL of the conversations. 🙏 I’ve just recently begun considering going back to therapy for this because there are major blockages, friends. I know my challenges with this topic are not isolated to inviting/not inviting children (or any other human for that matter) into our home. I think it’s more boundary work. I think it’s a need to work through feeling like I always have to be “ON” when other people are around. I think it’s my extreme sensitivities to light and sound and touch (read: I often feel assassinated by things that others find joy in). I KNOW it’s my fear that I would push my child away and leave them contending with the thought, “does she even love me?” 😭

Dang. This is so not fun to write. But I feel it in my bones. This writing – its an admitting to myself in a way that I can no longer run from. I’m tired of running, friends. No, I’m exhausted. Another day, another post, perhaps I can give you a glimpse into my 30’s and the hell-on-earth I created for myself in regards to starting a family. But for now…

If any of you, dear ones, have/had massive fears and doubts about bringing children into your home (whether naturally, foster, adopted), and have been on the journey, know that you are not alone. I’d love to hear from you. I know everyone’s path is unique to them, but I also know the human spirit is connected. We are all in this together. Perhaps we have the words that will encourage another and help set us free.💚

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Witnessing growth is fun. Sitting down, feet up, surrounded by boxes + dust bunnies = growth for this gal.

It’s interesting to think back to a younger version of me, the one who couldn’t sit down until EVERYTHING was “done.” Oh, bless her heart. She thought there was this place you could reach where everything would be “done.” Honestly, learning that there was no “end” to the workload and responsibility of this marriage and career and adulting thing was jarring in the least. I felt overwhelmed by the knowledge that I would never “arrive” at this land of “done-ville” until my life came to a close. It’s taken adjustment and a whole lot of grace to breathe into this lifestyle of intentionally leaving things undone. Often.

If I’m honest, I can still readily get snared into thinking the tasks must be done before it’s “responsible” to say yes to people. 😑 That may be fine, even applauded by much of the world. Oh, to be so “disciplined.” I wonder how many books alone have been written on the topic. “Productivity hacks” run rampant in our culture, and I have often fallen for it hook, line, and sinker.

But my standards have changed over the years. I no longer let “whatever” pass by my eyes and ears. I have waged the battled against mainstream media to be my source of “enough ness” and what I “should be” striving for.

Now I look to God, and rely on the Holy Spirit to guide me. In the Bible, Jesus never modeled ditching people to go organize the stacks of fish or clean up the tent. I have so much more room to grow in this area and I am here for it.

Where my sisters at who also have a hard time prioritizing people and BEING over tasks? 🙋🏼‍♀️ And I’m not talking about what you really want in your heart. In my own heart it’s people all the way. I mean in your actions. In your calendar. Where do your feet and hands and mouth go each day? I’m not sharing this to shame you or me. Nope. Nada. Not interested. But I am hearing God cheer me on in this awareness of becoming more like Mary and less like Martha when it comes to the slowing down, stopping, making the phone call, and simply being present. 💚

So…here’s a nod to sitting down, feet up, making time to “just” B PRESENT.

[Check out the full story of Mary & Martha in Luke 10: 38-42.]

Dear Husband,

On this dawn of our 17th year together (25 when you count the 8 years of dating that led up to our wedding day), I find myself waking early (no shock there) and listening to you breath. When I’m trying to sleep your loud breathing is frustrating, but when I’m awake and starting at your sleeping cuteness it’s adorable. Funny how that works. When dating, the things we deem as cute & quirky can so often turn into annoyances down the road…

PERSPECTIVE MATTERS & WE GET TO CHOOSE HOW WE LOOK AT THINGS.

You’ve heard it said before, but I’ll say it again: I had no idea what I was getting myself into when deciding to get married. It’s just what you do, right? When we were young and dumb, everyone got married. It wasn’t even a question you asked yourself. Not, “do I want to get married?” Rather, “when will I find the person I will marry?” Knowing myself now and how I can belabor big decisions, I sure am glad it happened for us the way it did. No 2nd guessing. Never another idea of how this might go.

TOGETHER FOREVER, MY LOVE YOU WILL BE.

We’ve learned a lot since that day we said, “for better or worse.” I know for a fact that as I stood there donning my 1st-ever satin gown with crystal beaded straps, gloves up to my elbows, never did I ever think we’d have those “worse” times. Not us. You’re my Pookie and I’m your Flower and “happily ever after” we’ll be.

NOT SO FAST.

We didn’t know what we didn’t know. We didn’t know we were bringing more than sunshine and rainbows to the picnic. We didn’t know of the thunderstorms, army ants, and killer bees that were about to show their gnarly faces. I’d like to think I would have gone through with it all if I did, but I can’t say for certain I would have. I have seen other areas in life where I continue to say no to opportunity out of fear for the way it will radically change my life (aka – make it hard). I didn’t think marriage would make life hard, and that’s probably why I didn’t think twice. But it got hard. It got real hard. There were years where I could scarcely breath or sleep because of how hard it was. I suppose if I didn’t care about you so much, if I didn’t have such high hopes and dreams for you and me, maybe it wouldn’t have been so soul-crushing. But I did, still do, and it was. I don’t have a picture of us to show for those times. I wasn’t taking pics of you and me. It was running and nature and running some more. Those roads saw a lot of tears and my feet felt a lot of pain. But I just kept going. You kept going too. We believed in us. We believed:

We may not be able to go back and change the beginning, but anyone can decide right now to choose a different ending.

Thank God for that. The one tiny shimmer glimmer of hope held us together. Then Jesus. Then forgiveness. Then therapy. Then more forgiveness. (ongoing, right?) Then reconciliation and healing. Increased hope. Increased joy. Increased wisdom. Increased strength. A newfound foundation on which to stand. No more faulty ground full of cracks. Or, when there is a crack, our sprit knows and we don’t ignore it, we address it.

Praise God for 2nd chances, 3rd chance, 4th chances…Praise Him for allowing us to see where we both get it wrong. Being married to you is often a mirror to me of the ways I could stand to grow and change. Sometimes that’s annoying, but only if I let it be. For how beautiful it is really, that you can choose to have this one person that you share your life with, share your body with, share your fears and your dreams and your everything-in-between, and they still choose you. You fight for me and I fight for you. We still drive each other nuts at times, we’re in need of Grace daily, but love wins.

Here’s to celebrating our past; the fun, the messy, and the ugly. Here’s to another year of discovery and memory-making. As we took on this new house and the unexpected yearlong project it would become, we’ve heard it said:

HOME RENOVATION TESTS THE STRONGEST OF MARRIAGES.

They were right. This year has had its fair share of challenges. But we’re doing it. Of course we are. Because I’m not doing it on my own, and neither are you. And to love is a choice. To laugh is a choice. To elevate another over oneself is a choice. Today, as we celebrate 17 (25) years together, I raise my glass (of water ;) to our commitment, faith, and perseverance.

I LOVE YOU, CURLS WEISWEAVER. FOREVER MY BABY YOU’LL BE. HAPPY, HAPPY ANNIVERSARY!

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Not that anyone ever sits around wondering how they will respond to a global pandemic nor months spent in quarantine, I for sure surprised myself with some of these findings. Note: there is a mixture of silly & serious because – real life. Also note: some of these might seem contradictory. Personally, I find beauty in that.

QuaranTEAM

1. I can spend more consecutive hours not wearing a bra than I ever imagined being comfortable with. (Late-bloomer hippie?)

2. Shower-optional Sunday quickly turned into shower-optional-any-day-that-ends-with-y.

3. You can be joy-filled even when you’re bringing in no income, waiting on two homes to sell, unsure of whether recent big decisions were “the best ones” or not, you can’t see loved ones, and heartache surrounds you in every direction.

4. Creating community (albeit virtual) lights up my soul.

5.Writing/speaking/singing/listening/story-telling/teaching/learning/walking/laughing/movement: I knew these were lifelines to me and that rang LOUDER and clearer throughout quarantine.

6. I love my husband. All 1,728 hours we have spent together throughout this season. (Ok, we have hit many speed bumps throughout the past few months. But working through them and overcoming? SO POWERFUL!)

7. I don’t have to get up at 4am to have a great day. In fact, 5:30am suits me just fine.

8. Comparison still exists in quarantine. Never are we immune unless we choose to be.

9.You really can fix your Zoom screen to show only what you want. Things are not always as they appear (ex. business on top, jammies down low).

10.Love still wins. Choosing: faith over fear, generosity over greed, others over self, courage over comfort, hope over despair, warrior vs worrier…turns out all of these mantras I meditate on sans pandemic still ring true now. Throughout the sickness, throughout the closures, throughout the many, many unknowns – TELLING YOUR PROBLEMS HOW BIG YOUR GOD IS MAKES ALL THE DIFFERENCE!

Ok, ten things is just barely scratching the surface! We all learned ten thing daily, I’m sure of it. What about you? Have you discovered anything surprising throughout this time? New areas of growth perhaps? Letting go of anything as we move out of quarantine? I’d love to hear about it!

💚 Tammy

What Worked & What Didn’t in 2019

Anyone else a complete sucker for fresh starts and new beginnings?

Mornings…Mondays…Birthdays…A New Year…A New Decade! It’s not so much about the blank slate ahead that does it for me, rather it’s the looking back and reflecting on all that has been overcome, revived, released, and revealed. As you can imagine, I’ve been chomping at the bit to reflect on this past year. Lessons learned? People I want to spend more time with? Less? Habits worth keeping? Others that need to be ditched?

Part of knowing where we want to go involves looking at where we have already been. I’m glad you’re on this journey with me and hope that you’re slowing down to take an honest look at your past year, too. Is the track you’ve been on one you want to keep traveling? In what areas might you be ready to gain new footing?

The idea to create a “What Worked + What Didn’t” list was inspired by one of my mentors, Emily P. Freeman. (She doesn’t exactly know me, but that doesn’t lessen her impact on my life.) I highly recommend Emily’s books, podcast, email, and blog if you’re someone who ever struggles with making decisions and making room for your soul to breathe.

Here goes…

WHAT DIDN'T WORK IN 2019:  

1. Rushing.

My mind still loves to think I have SO MUCH TO DO that I must go quicker, faster, faster, quicker, in order to get it all done. This is the year I was gobsmacked and actually saw rushing as counterproductive. Silly mistakes happen and feelings are way more likely to get hurt when rushing is the name of the game. TRUST began replacing RUSH in 2019 and I am ever so grateful for that.

2. Interrupting.

Oh, how I’d love to say that the skill I once aimed to teach 5 yr olds (former kindergarten teacher here) wasn’t an issue for me, but it is. Whether out of excitement, impatience, or anything in between, interrupting is rude and I am sincerely sorry if you were on the receiving end of it.

3. Micromanaging.

I’ve dubbed myself a recovering perfectionist, and I truly think my micromanaging stems from thinking I know THE BEST WAY for said thing to be done. This predominantly rears its ugly head in my marriage, but my hubby is speaking up more and more and calling it what it is. I am convicted – it isn’t working/worth it/what I really want.

4. Staying up too late.

I made huge strides this year in admitting that I am human and humans need a good night’s sleep. Noes were said when Yes would have meant a midnight bedtime when I have to be up at 4am. And yet – I can’t count on two hands the number of times I fought bedtime. Check all the apps one last time – finish the project – and another hour of sleep bites the dust. I felt it this year more than ever that skimping on sleep is not my best yes.

5. Making assumptions.

Thinking I know what another must be thinking is a big fat lie. Assumptions get in the way of real relationship and this year I had hard conversations to start kicking those assumptions to the curb.

6. Putting things off.

Decisions, decisions, decisions. So many decisions. Big decisions. Seemingly little decisions. This was a year where decisions overwhelmed me (ok, that’s not so different from years past), and I found myself increasingly putting those decisions off. What happens when decisions get backlogged? They don’t go away – or perhaps there is no longer a decision because your lack thereof has left you with a final call you might have avoided had you just made a decision in the first place. I know God wants me to experience freedom in this. OVERMAGNIFYING is a real thing and I look forward to growing away from it in the year to come.

7. Using technology to distract.

Put the phone down. Put the phone down again. Put the phone in the other room. Put the food down. Face the task at hand, Tammy. Yes, you can. Whether it’s putting off a project I really don’t feel like doing, having a difficult conversation, or putting myself to bed – I saw the need this year to put limits on my technology. Technology-free times were a huge win that came from this realization.

WHAT WORKED IN 2019:

1.Prayer, fasting, & crying over people I’ve never met.

I love that the Lord led me to study prayer this year. I had been praying everyday prior to, but not like lives depended on it. My prayer life has gotten more bold and more ugly (crying), too. It’s humble, yet faith-filled, fierce, yet fully submitted to trusting His will and His way. Fasting has been key to reminding me that my flesh is not the boss. There has been such freedom, even newfound confidence, that has come from fasting.

2.Guided Journaling.

I’ve always loved freehand journaling, but the guided journal was something totally new to me. God gifted me this last winter when I was stuck in a rut. Can you say life-changer?! Not only did these daily guided talks with Him lift me up, they gave me direction and wind in my sails. This practice eventually came to be my first ever printed resource for purchase! Talk about fun.

3.Writing.

With the help of a mentor and friend, I started seeing my not acting upon the desire God gave me to write more as disobedience than simply not having the time or courage to do so. This revelation lit a fire under me and I wrote my first devotional on hearing from God, which is at the designer now. It shouldn’t be long now before resource 2.0 is out in the world! Go, God, go!

How I feel about book edits.

4.Travel.

Traveling continues to produce more fruit than I could ever imagine. Whether a retreat I’m leading (Utah 4.0, you seriously rocked my world!), an adventurous hiking trip (I see you, Machu Picchu), or a mission trip (Thailand, Cambodia, I pray for you and your people often, and it feels as though a part of my heart stayed with you.), I’m convinced traversing new terrain, hearing different languages, and learning the history and true socioeconomic status of places outside of the good ol’ USA make me a better version of me.

5. Time with friends.

Though this season in life is not riddled with friend-time on the daily (aside from my hubby who is one of my bestest), intentional efforts to spend time with friends always served as the perfect reminder that we were made to be in loving community. It was friends who helped steer me away from sulking and into truth. It was friends who brought laughter and joy. It was friends who shared their high’s and low’s and helped me to see that this beautiful thing called life is done better together.

6. Eating less sugar (and yet still participating in family Christmas cookie day)

If you’ve hung around me for more than a day you likely know that I like sweets. This year has been a beautiful blend of having them – sometimes – and sometimes not. I no longer felt like a cookie was the boss of me, nor that I had to forego sugar altogether. I enjoyed more energy and better brain function without all the sugar, yet I equally enjoyed making mom’s famous sugar cookies and licking frosting off my fingers any chance I could get. With a history of disordered eating, this is huge for me and I’m beyond grateful for this change and growth.

7. Leading online devotions.

This was a new-to-me experience that came at the very end of the year – what a treat! Recording an online study of Luke each day leading up to Christmas was the highlight of December. I cannot wait to share more Bible study reflections in the future and look forward to hearing from more of you, too.

8.Creating space to listen.

This is a biggee that had a direct impact on every other area listed. From my month of margin back in August of ’18, there’s been a domino effect in my desire to create space so I can truly LISTEN. I used to see making margin as something optional, or something I “should do.” Now I see it as a “need to/get to.” I get to set boundaries, say no to the things that aren’t a priority, and turn off the noise that can so often get in the way of hearing the still, small voice of my Creator who wants me to hear what He has to say – above all. This often looks like turning off the podcast/music/audiobook, all of which have their value and place. Creating space to hear refers not just to the calendar and physical activities of the day, but to mental space and heart space as well. Listening has been the #1 catalyst to every other great thing this year. More peace. More joy. More wisdom. I have a feeling that if I continue on this journey of creating space to listen, that list of things that didn’t work well in 2019? Let’s just say I don’t think they stand a chance at surviving.

What’s on your list? What worked? What didn’t? How can those answers help shape your 2020 to be a year for the books?!

Tammy

Why Do We Do This to Ourselves?

REAL TALK: After a 2:30am bedtime with the B Present Studio Utah Women’s Wellness Retreat coming to an abrupt halt, I knew today wouldn’t look like my typical Monday.  I wouldn’t wake at 4am to go fire up a room full of women as we all start our day in sweat.😅 Nope.  I would, rather, not set an alarm and let my body wake when it was ready.  (A lesson in self-care that took me many years to learn.) Today would be laundry, unpacking, grocery list (make all of my own meals #thisisreallife), and back to the many work projects I had left behind. 

And then “it” came and interrupted my carefully laid plans.  Waves and waves of emotion.  Overwhelming amounts of gratitude.  A joy so deep I literally burst into tears repeatedly throughout the day.  Praise.  Worship.🙏 I couldn’t help but picture the heaven-on-earth these past five days have been.  My mind went to a place of comparison; to that of a time not all that long ago where I was considering ending my own life.😞

How can this much change really be possible?!? 

Change your beliefs, change your life.

I thought of the many MAJOR mistakes I’ve made in the past, and yet here I am experiencing such freedom, so much joy it’s almost hard to believe this is really my life – cue the sobbing.😭 You see, there was a time, also not long ago, I believed, “You deserve what you get. You make a mistake, you suffer the consequences.”  While there are certainly consequences to our actions, yes, my belief was more in line with the idea of “punishment.” Often self-imposed.  I had a hard time letting go.  Forgiveness, for myself – forget it.  Forgiveness, for others – maaaaybe, but don’t expect me to not bring it back up (or in the least remind you that I let you “off the hook.”)  Forgiveness is something that took a loooong time for me to get a revelation of.  So to look at my life now and see this once mistake-ridden, messed-up, stressed-out girl: 

1. following my passion for fitness and positively impacting many, even beyond the walls of the studio – I see God’s grace.
2. my once terminal marriage now thriving – I see God’s redemptive power.
3. participating in a community so kind and loving you can’t help but smile – I see God’s tangible gifts and desire for His kids to be well-connected and cared for.

When asked by my husband and mom to share my favorite part of the trip, my answer was simple: THE PEOPLE. 100%. Yep. The scenery was amazing. The weather – to die for. Hiking, biking, fitness classes galore. Fresh, healthy food, at your fingertips. All of that was wonderful, yet it pales in comparison to the women I got to share the past 5 days with.

Community…Google dictionary defines it as such:

“A feeling of fellowship with others, as a result of sharing common attitudes, interests, and goals.”

Community…something most would tell you they want to be a part of, yet fear often rears its ugly head. Fear – the kind that whispers, “You don’t belong here.” “You’ll never really fit in.” “They’re just being nice because they have to, not because they really like you.” “You’re not ______ enough.” (Fill in with word of choice. A few favorites tend to be: thin, funny, wealthy, worthy, nice.) Oh, how I love to help women get beyond these lies. I love to help people feel SEEN and WELCOMED and HEARD.

Wouldn’t it be interesting then, after this outpouring of love and joy and celebration… FEAR would start to rear it’s ugly head in my mind…DOUBT would start creeping in like my fingers on the frosting of darn near any cake:

Why can’t you be more like _____?

You’re not as nice as _______?

People ‘put up with being around you,’ but they really enjoy hanging out with ______.

You’re really not fit to lead retreats. Or a business. Or fitness classes for that matter. No one really likes you. If they once did, they don’t anymore.

Ok, hold the phone. After years of learning to hear the voice of God and discern how He speaks to me versus anybody else, I KNEW that these words were not from Him. These fears…these doubts…they were rooted in me letting my thoughts go towards comparison of myself to others. What began as a beautiful comparison of the me from 12 years ago to me today…the ways God’s love and mercy had changed me, learning to accept His grace, to receive and extend forgiveness, to allow myself to experience joy at such a deep level without feeling like I don’t deserve it because of my past…that kind of comparison was life-giving. Reflection and looking in the rear-view mirror can be a powerful motivator of where you’ve been and remind you where you want to go. But comparing ourselves to others? Counting the ways that person is “better than” you? Focusing in on something you currently dislike about yourself and lusting over being like somebody else? All of these lead to death.

I took these potentially damaging thoughts to the Lord and was met with the following Truth:

“A body isn’t just a single part blown up into something huge. It’s all the different-but-similar parts arranged and functioning together. If Foot said, “I’m not elegant like Hand, embellished with rings; I guess I don’t belong to this body,” would that make it so? If Ear said, “I’m not beautiful like Eye, limpid and expressive; I don’t deserve a place on the head,” would you want to remove it from the body? If the body was all eye, how could it hear? If all ear, how could it smell? As it is, we see that God has carefully placed each part of the body right where he wanted it.

But I also want you to think about how this keeps your significance from getting blown up into self-importance. For no matter how significant you are, it is only because of what you are a part of. An enormous eye or a gigantic hand wouldn’t be a body, but a monster. What we have is one body with many parts, each its proper size and in its proper place. No part is important on its own. Can you imagine Eye telling Hand, “Get lost; I don’t need you”? Or, Head telling Foot, “You’re fired; your job has been phased out”? As a matter of fact, in practice it works the other way—the “lower” the part, the more basic, and therefore necessary. You can live without an eye, for instance, but not without a stomach. When it’s a part of your own body you are concerned with, it makes no difference whether the part is visible or clothed, higher or lower. You give it dignity and honor just as it is, without comparisons. If anything, you have more concern for the lower parts than the higher. If you had to choose, wouldn’t you prefer good digestion to full-bodied hair?

The way God designed our bodies is a model for understanding our lives together as a church: every part dependent on every other part, the parts we mention and the parts we don’t, the parts we see and the parts we don’t. If one part hurts, every other part is involved in the hurt, and in the healing. If one part flourishes, every other part enters into the exuberance.

You are Christ’s body—that’s who you are! You must never forget this. Only as you accept your part of that body does your “part” mean anything. I Corinthians 12:12-31 MSG  

Talk about a truth-bomb! Thank you, Holy Spirit, for speaking straight to my heart exactly what it needed to combat the lies I was starting to meditate on.

• Am I as funny as some of the women who were on the retreat? Not in the same way they are.

• Am I as emotionally available? Nope. I often need a head’s up in order to be available, but I also know the Lord is growing me in this area.

• Does it help to compare my weaknesses to everyone else’s strengths? No, no, and more no.

• Does comparison bring me closer to others or does it lead me to push others away? I think you know the answer to this. A phenomena that explains why Netflix and the like are so widely popular – I can “hang with Netflix” and not have to worry about being rejected.

Thus, I’ve decided – instead of letting fear and doubt rain on my joy parade – I am choosing to step into the truth. I will believe that the words in 1 Corinthians are for me.

WE EACH PLAY A PART. YOUR PART IS NOT BETTER THAN MINE, NOR IS IS MINE BETTER THAN YOURS. WE NEED ONE ANOTHER. WE’RE BETTER TOGETHER.